A Different Kind of Curiosity
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: [DMC] Elizabeth was drunk. She was very, very drunk. Onesided NorringtonElizabeth


**A Different Kind of Curiosity**

Norrington had been trying to get drunk all night, and it didn't seem to be working very well. Yes, his rum had been slowly disappearing, but it wasn't his doing to say the least.

His first bottle had been drained by a sneaky Mr. Gibbs, who had not only beaten him at rummy again, but who had told him a story of such horror and obscenity that he'd had to excuse himself for a few long, dry-heaving moments. Upon his return, he found his half-empty bottle completely empty, and a winning hand of poker lying face-up on Gibbs' side of the crate. He cleared the cards, returning them to Gibbs' pack missing the ace of spade, which he tossed into the sea.

His second bottle had been purloined by a far-less sneaky Captain Jack Sparrow. While listening to a crewman's band playing a light shanty, Captain Sparrow had sidled up to Norrington and took the bottle right from his hand. Norrington's quiet protests were met with more garbled, befuddled verbiage than he wanted to deal with at that point. He scowled at the pirate captain, then stalked off back toward the hold for another bottle of rum to quell his lust for drink.

His third bottle had fallen overboard. It had been drained nearly three-quarters empty, and Norrington was beginning to feel that familiar tingle in the back of his brain when the ship lurched unexpectedly over a rogue wave. The bottle, which had been in his hand at the time of impact, had mysteriously ended up on the railing of the ship and tumbled into the broiling sea. He watched it for long moments, sending sad bubbles to the surface as if to mock him.

His fourth bottle was currently caught in the fingers of Miss Elizabeth Swann.

They were alone on deck, which he knew wasn't a good thing. She had begun the conversation by leaning drunkenly on the railing beside him, her own bottle empty. He wondered how many she'd had before nonchalantly letting hers fall into the ocean and taking his without a word. She downed a long, heavy drink from his partially emptied rum bottle before her eyes misted over with hot tears and she choked out three words:

"Men are scum."

He watched with raised eyebrows as she deteriorated into thick sobs, trying hard to hold them back and utterly failing. She sunk down to the deck, crossing her legs before her and drinking against the sadness. Norrington joined her on the filthy deck, he being unable to clean it properly with Sparrow allowing him only his tattered wig as a scrub brush.

"So I take it I've done something terrible?" Norrington asked in a flat voice, watching his precious rum drain into the perfect throat of his ex-fiancee. She shook her head quickly, running a hand across her eyes.

"Oh, no, James, you aren't scum, that's not what I meant to say at all-- oh, I'm a horrible person." She bit her lip, restraining the flow of drunken words that wished to break free. Norrington made a sad sigh somewhere in the back of his throat. Whatever God there was watching them was determined that he should not get drunk that night.

"What has brought you to the conclusion that every man is scum?" He asked, realizing that he had unwittingly been regaled to the position of "shoulder-to-cry-on." She dashed another taste of piquant liquid into her mouth, letting the tears run free down her face. Again, three words summed up her entire predicament.

"Captain Jack Sparrow." The words were said with such subtle nuance of hatred and longing that Norrington knew precisely what the problem was. Her words, though determined, came out with an intoxicated quivering. "Men think that women like me are easy to take advantage of. Even Will--" She choked, fighting back evil tears, subduing them with other drink. "Even Will, sometimes..."

Her quiet sniffling was the only noise between them for a long moment while Norrington tried desperately to find something to say.

"Elizabeth, I--" He cut himself off, feeling the heat of the moment in his chest. She watched him for his answer. "I would _never_ hurt you, Elizabeth." His bold words were met with a surprising drunken smile. She wiped tears dangling from her eyes.

"You've always been good to me, James. Even after everything I did to you." She hadn't realized the pain that statement would send through Norrington's heart. He was even more surprised when she had leaned closer to move an errant strand of hair from his face. "You are really very handsome without that stuffy old wig." She smiled, fueled by the alcohol. Norrington felt an unfamiliar flush rise to his cheeks.

"Elizabeth," he tried not to fumble his words, his brain working feverishly. "I think--"

_Think? What was think?_

"You're the only man who's ever been kind to me," she said with a slur.

"I'm sure... other men..." He cursed himself inside his head for not being able to form any words, let alone complete sentences. He had hardly registered that the intoxicated woman before him had inched closer. In her dazed, hazy eyes, she held that look Norrington wished that he knew better. Some might call it the "come-hither" look. Captain Jack Sparrow referred to it as "The Look What Sunk a Thousand Ships, Savvy?"

He was caught, hook, line and sinker. He could do no more then to stare forward into her tear-stained eyes.

Her lips parted perfectly, and he could smell the rum on her breath. She'd had far more than Norrington's spare bottle.

"You still love me, don't you?" Her words were more lucid than she had meant them to be. And his answer was more desperate that he had meant to sound.

"Yes," he muttered after only short deliberation, sadness caught in his throat like bittersweet honey. She smiled again, as if not understanding, then took another long drink of rum to embolden herself, though Norrington doubted that her clouded mind grasped completely what her body was doing. And she was currently moving forward with one arm on either side of Norrington's sitting body.

"I'm sorry," she said with a thick voice. Her parted lips were close, too close, but his mind took over for his inability and mirrored it, holding desperately away with what little propriety he had left.

_Wrong. This is wrong._

Her breath danced on his face, lips barely brushing in the darkness, and his eyes rolled shut, absolutely helpless.

The sudden weight of Elizabeth's unconscious body slumped against his chest, and he was knocked into reality with a painful exhalation. Staring down at the sleeping woman lying against him, he let out a long, pent up, frustrated sigh. Elizabeth had fallen into a drunken slumber. He compulsively ran a hand through her curls, then threw her weight over her shoulder and took her down into the hold. He carefully lay her down in her hammock, where she curled into a fetal position and hugged her arms around her. He watched her for a sad moment, then pressed a ginger kiss against her warm brow. She smiled in her sleep and turned over.

"I love you too, Will," she muttered quietly, piercing Norrington's heart once again. He ran a weary hand over his eyes, then retreated back on deck.

His fifth bottle was for him, and he drank it to the very bottom.

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AN: I am sorry for this. Just a whim that I really felt like exploring. I had a dream to this effect and decided to try it out. I'm a huge Norry sympathizer, and hate it that Elizabeth didn't marry him. Oh well. Whatta ya think? Have fun and happy reading!


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